


The Soup Man!!!

by CookieMonstersRUs



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Food, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24342382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieMonstersRUs/pseuds/CookieMonstersRUs
Summary: Has anyone noticed that The Boys all have food names?I'm hungry...
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell (sorta), Hughie Campbell/Robin Ward (past)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	The Soup Man!!!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trick/gifts).



> please do not take this shit seriously BAHAHAHAHA but I noticed that Hughie's last name was Campbell and I was like oh?? the SOUP??? and then Butcher--> the butcher, Frenchie--> french bread, Mother's MILK--> milkie boy, and I was like??? nice
> 
> also for some reason I decided to make this vaguely victorian au so deal with that and also someone should write a proper victorian au

Mister Hughie Campbell wanted to be famous! He wanted to be the greatest soup-maker in all the land after his wife died in a tragic automobile accident. Her last meal was a shared tomato soup. Robin had laughed at him and told him his cream was all wrong. Then she left for the market and then she'd been killed! Hughie was devastated. The soup had killed her! So he'd hung up his top hat and gone to work to redeem himself and regain his honor. Hughie worked day and night to fix his tomato soup, but something about it didn't feel right. So he started anew. He tried creaming broccoli, but that felt ridiculous, and he also tried to make something called a gazpacho, but that tasted like shit, so Hughie gave up for a couple of days.

Then he had a dream one night about chicken and broth and the crinkle of sourdough dipped in the warmth. When Hughie woke up he had purpose again! He rushed out of his house, barely remembering his top hat and fixing his cravat. He made his way to the market on quick feet. His first stop was at the baker's.

"Frenchman!" Mister Campbell exclaimed as he entered the shop. The baker had many workers, but Hughie only wanted to speak to his dough-boy. "Frenchie, do you have any noodles here?"

Frenchman, a short man with a curly and austere mustache, raised a brow at Hughie. "Monsieur, are you fucking kidding me?"

"No!" Hughie smiled. "Do you have noodles?"

"We are a French bakery, not a fucking Italian restaurateur."

"Oh..." Hughie looked down at his shiny shoes in concern. An idea came to him. "Well do you have any sourdough?"

"No." Frenchie shoved a fresh baguette in his hands. "We only have French bread."

"I'll take it!" Hughie exclaimed and bought two because he was in such high spirits.

Hughie left the shop and didn't notice Frenchie watching him skip down the market streets. Frenchie shook his head and muttered, "Idiot."

So then it was time for Hughie to go to the milkman for some broth. Mother's Milk, or M.M. as they called, wore a crisp white suit among the sea of gray-dressed folks at the market. He had with him many glass cartons of milk, but no broth. Hughie approached the man with good nature and cleared his throat.

"Say, Milk Man, do you have any broth with you?"

M.M. did a double take and frowned at the man before him. "What the fuck man?"

"I was simply inquiring if you had any broth with you as you often deal with cream. I am making a soup!"

"Are you for real?"

"Indeed!"

"Look, I only got milk."

"It'll have to do!" Hughie said with good nature.

M.M. sold the crazy a bottle of milk and then the weirdo was on his way, trotting along the cobblestone with a baguette under each arm and a bottle of milk in his side pocket. M.M. shook his head and hoped he'd never have to deal with him ever again.

Finally it was time to go to the Butcher's. Hughie had heard some awful tales about the Butcher over the years as being a mean growly man after his wife left him for a Lord. Hughie had never been in his shop before and so he shivered as he approached the man's establishment. Hughie was faint of heart, so he entered the store quietly and cautiously so as to not cause a ruckus. Hughie was looking at the displays on either side of the room, inspecting the lamb cuts and the pork chops with interest. He couldn't see any question. Finally, Hughie turned to face the man at the front counter and jumped when he realized the man was holding a knife mid-air. Hughie squeaked when his top hat fell off his head and landed atop the head of a chopped boar.

"Looking for something?" the man asked with a low chuckle. 

"Y-yes," Hughie rested his baguettes on a clean counter and made for his coin purse. The man's face betrayed nothing, but he lowered his knife. Hughie gained his composure. "You see, I'm looking for some chicken. I wish to make soup!"

"I don't sell poultry here. The only chicken I have here are the eggs upstairs for my breakfast."

"No chicken?" Hughie's lip wobbled. His dreams, crushed! "But how will I make my noddle soup chicken!" he cried. 

Butcher looked him over. "I don't think you were going to get all that fucking far with some milk and bread."

"Then what should I do!" Hughie bawled.

Butcher shifted from side to side, wiping his bloody hands on a towel and considering the good-looking fella in front of him. "Well..." Butcher started, regretting it already, "we could always make something else."

Hughie wiped his tears away. "Like what?"

"C'mon, follow me." Butcher led him up the back stairs of the shop to his personal quarters. Normally, Butcher would never bring strangers up here, even the cute ones, but this one looked so fucking lost, so Butcher took him in and to his kitchen, where he pulled out some butter. "Perhaps we could fry the bread after soaking it in the milk."

"And make it all mushy and bland?" Hughie huffed. "I think not!"

"Then go find something to make it less fucking bland."

Hughie straightened up and went searching around the cupboards of Butcher's abode. Eventually he landed on something sweet: vanilla and cinnamon. Hughie plucked it from the cabinet and poured them into the concoction of milk and eggs Butcher had created. Hughie pulled down the frying pan and covered it in some butter. Then Butcher sliced the French bread and dipped it into their mixture before laying it on the girdle. When the sides were properly browned, they placed the strange invention on a plate and waited for it to cool.

"It smells delicious," Hughie murmured, standing rather close to Butcher.

"Shall we have a taste?" Butcher asked softly.

They split the piece of bread between them. It was no soup, but damn it all it was delicious! Hughie moaned gleefully and ate some more. "Perfect! Oh, Butcher, this is lovely!"

"We should write this down," Butcher declared. "Next time, I'll cook some bacon with it."

"And I'll get some peaches! Oh a sweet syrup would taste divine with this dish!"

"What should we call it?"

"We should call this English toast!" Hughie declared, grinning at Butcher. "Because we are good English men!"

"You should call it fucking French toast because you used some fucking French bread," Butcher told him.

Hughie, overwhelmed with glee, smacked a kiss on Butcher's lips. "A splendid idea!" 

Butcher grinned back and made them some more of this wonderful dish called _French toast_!

**Author's Note:**

> alt. title: The Origins of English (French) Toast.
> 
> alt. ending: Hughie gets some meat (wink wonk)


End file.
